Forever Mortal
by Danny Phantom SG-1
Summary: Based on the Disney movie Hercules. Years after his fateful decision to refuse immortality and remain with Meg, Hercules contemplates what it means to be mortal...and to get closer to death. In the end, was it worth it? Oneshot.


**A/N: My first shot at any Disney-movie-related fanfiction. It's for _Hercules_, which happens to be my favorite Disney movie, and I've seen it so many times that I figured it was fitting for me to write a fic for it. Though it's really somewhat of a drabble, considering its focus on thoughts and emotions as opposed to bonafide plot. But whatever. Enjoy this contemplative piece.**

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_Forever Mortal_

The spring sky made him lose his mind to the melancholy thoughts that seemed to surface daily now.

Truly, nothing had changed. He tried to convince himself that things were exactly the same as they always had been…just without the prospect of immortality. Which, he supposed, had never been a certainty, anyway.

He'd never been guaranteed to become a hero.

Over the years, though, people had begun to take him for granted. As the monsters that ransacked their cities continued to flow, they relied on his abilities (which were so kindly left to him by his immortal father) and believed they would always have a protector.

But as the years went on, he slowly began to realize that this was untrue.

No matter how he tried to deny it, he could feel his once-limber limbs cramping up on him as he grappled with the terrors of the towns. Where he used to be able to carelessly kick a boulder to send it flying, he now found himself strangely exerted every time he had to use more-than-average amounts of strength.

And he knew these strange symptoms were not the results of some super-power-depleting scheme. Because they happened gradually, over time. As he got older.

Because he was completely mortal—just like everyone else.

One particular afternoon, this fact became painfully apparent to him. He'd been fighting the River Guardian with tremendous ease, as usual—the beast wasn't the brightest-colored urn in the pottery shop—but when he'd flipped the monster onto its back, he'd felt a strong tug at his shoulder, and he immediately gripped it in pain. The on-lookers, thankfully, noticed nothing; they simply cheered him on, believing their beloved hero to be an immortal god, impervious to the likes of injury or aging.

Oh, but he'd given that up long ago.

He'd decided it was best to return to his home, located near his adopted parents' abode in the woods. He and Meg had initially wanted to livein the city so that he could be readily on hand to save Thebes from its daily doses of danger, but the thought of his fangirls squealing at him and attacking his home and family had deterred them from the idea. Besides, he could see the city just fine from where he was—just a little ways off.

So it didn't take him long to get to his house from the "fight scene." Most people had scattered off after the battle, it being evening and, for most people, time to sleep. But for him, it was time to go home, recover from his…injury…, keep an eye on the city for the lurkers who came out only at nighttime, and think.

That's right—think. Not something he'd been tremendous at doing in his earlier years. His naivety had diminished slightly, however, with his experiences.

Another constant reminder that he was becoming a veteran in the field. Older. Closer to a mortal death.

When he walked in with a grimace on his face—one thing that hadn't changed was that he still couldn't keep his emotions in check—she'd narrowed her eyes at him, thinking he was faking it. She still didn't trust everything he did, and he didn't expect her to—not after the story she told him of why she'd been tied to Hades all those years. To risk your life for someone, and then lose them anyway…well, he sort of knew what that was like. But he'd been able to prevent it, in the end.

She couldn't. Because she was mortal.

And he couldn't anymore. Because, he, too, was mortal. And now he had no more backup chances to use.

But he slid off to the back porch, which overlooked a lovely lake (dug up some dirt, went to the nearby river with Pegasus, and filled it up, one cup at a time. Back when he was young and had enough stamina to keep that up). He slumped down onto a chair, grateful to be off of his pounding feet, and he gave a slight whistle, just enough to alert his faithful companion.

Sure enough, a white streak in the sky raced across the setting sun, and he smiled as the winged horse drew nearer to him. Another thing that wouldn't change—Pegasus's loyalty.

The white blur finally landed right next to him on the porch, and the horse trotted closer to its best friend in the world.

"Hey, there, buddy," he laughed into Pegasus's ear. "I've got a little knot in my shoulder, and I don't want Meg to worry or…anything…so I was wondering if you could maybe—"

As usual, the horse read his mind, and it shifted behind its master. He felt the odd sensation of a hoof rubbing against his back, but he just chuckled. This was an average day in the life of him.

Hercules.

The mortal god.

"Just a little to the right, there—oh, yeah," he sighed, feeling a relaxed sensation come over him as the horse, seeming to laugh at him slightly, finished its mini-massage.

It paid to be a hero with a horse who could do practically anything.

"Huh. Wow, are you serious, Herc?" her voice came from the back door. It wasn't stern or even remotely concerned. More like amused and slightly sarcastic.

Both Hercules and Pegasus turned to her sharply, Pegasus backing away slowly and huffing at her. He was much more tolerant of her now, but the creature was still slightly jealous. If she was present, his best friend's attention was quickly diverted to her. Like right about n—

"Meg!" he exclaimed, shooting out of his chair. But that was a huge mistake, considering his shoulder went instantly back to throbbing with his slight movement.

She lifted an eyebrow at him, then turned to a still-fuming Pegasus. "Get outta here and go play with the other ponies, Horsefeathers. I'll take it from here."

Shooting a glance at Hercules to make sure its departure would be tolerated, the horse backed off of the porch and shot back into the sky, neighing its disapproval as it flew off.

As he watched the winged stallion float gently away, still nimble after years of efforts, Hercules wondered briefly if Pegasus was immortal. If his horse had something he could never againtry to attain.

He looked deeply into the ground for a moment, trying to deaden the look of discomfort and thoughtfulness on his face before he turned back to her.

"What was that all about, Hercules?" she asked before he looked back. He winced at her use of his real name—that meant sincerity and solemnity. Two traits of conversations he did not like to have.

"I got into a fight with the blue centaur guy again," he explained lamely, circling his arm around strangely. "I won, of course, but I'm not as quick to jump back as I used to be."

He held his breath, hoping she wouldn't catch the slight rise in his voice that signaled fear and uncertainty. He trampled off of the porch, avoiding her gaze, and picked up a large rock, absently flipping it up and down in his hands before skipping it across the water.

Jump, skip, hop, skim, plop.

Just like life.

Gods, this incident today was making him think too much into everything. He sat down on the ground, sighing, but he allowed a smile to engulf his face when he felt the warmth of her next to him.

They sat for a moment, both silent as they watched the sunset over the water. His eyes filled with tears as he closed his eyes to savor this moment. They were only granted so many memories like this, as mortals. His love by his side, and the beauty of nature stretched out before him.

It made him long for an eternity of moments like this.

But neither of them had eternity anymore.

"Do you regret it?" she asked suddenly.

He could feel the tremor in her voice, and he opened his eyes to see that she was avoiding his intense stare. He wasn't sure if the gleam of light on her face was caused simply by the reflection of the sun or by a rare tear sliding down one of her cheeks, despite her eternal look of confidence.

He reached out a hand to wipe it away but was dismayed when she flinched away from him.

"I need to know," she demanded anxiously.

He shook his head, baffled. "Do I regret what?"

She finally turned to him, a steely glaze in her eyes that made him jump back in slight alarm.

"You know what I'm talking about," she elaborated.

He breathed heavily for a moment, thinking rapidly through his past thoughts, but came up empty.

He shrugged, deciding to play off of her, a smile in his voice as he attempted to lighten the discussion. "Well, of course, I know it wasn't the best move to make. Phil would have killed me for making a mistake like that. I mean, come on..._flipping_ the River Guardian? At my age? But I never really regret helping people, even if it wasn't the smartest move, and—"

"Stop it, Hercules," she whispered, shaking her head and allowing just one laugh to escape her.

He was glad to hear her laugh. "I'm sorry, but I really have no idea what you're talking about. You know how clueless I can be sometimes, Meg. You're gonna have to be a little less...vague."

Her face softened when she turned to look into his blue eyes, such a strange combination of experience and innocence swimming within their depths. She woke up every day, dreading that all these years had been just fantastical dreams and that the perfect man was just a figment of her imagination. But here he was, every day, still as perfect as when she first met him.

She often wondered how she got so lucky, and lately, she'd wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Or if he would rather have it another way.

"Do you…" she started shakily. "Do you ever regret the decision you made years ago? Do you regret…choosing me over being immortal?"

He let a large breath escape him as he settled back onto his hands, his facial expression unchanged. He looked back at her teary eyes and sighed.

"Well, I can't say I haven't thought about it…especially recently," he said softly, unable to lie even now. "I'm getting older, and…well, I'm still strong; it just hurts sometimes, you know, Meg? I feel very…mortal."

She nodded and closed her eyes, biting back the tears she knew were threatening to emerge. So it was true. She'd sold her soul for the sake of men _twice_, and they would both betray her in the end. Granted, the prospect of immortality was a far better competitor than some curvacious female, but the facts still stung. She pursed her lips and looked over at him.

"Then why don't you ride on up there on Pegasus tomorrow and ask for your godhood to be restored? I'm sure they'd be willing to reinstate their offer," she managed to say relatively gently, with just a hint of bitterness.

But he deserved to be a god, and she knew it. She didn't deserve him; only gods could deserve the perfect man. She should've known her dream world wouldn't last.

Still, she didn't want him to see her break her usual cool and cry, so she started to get up, only to be stopped by a rather strong, yet delicate grip on her wrist. She sniffed back her pain as she looked down into his watery eyes.

"I would _never_ do that," he said firmly, pulling her down to him in a strong embrace.

Gods, what had he done? He should've known she was feeling this way! He'd vowed never to hurt her, and he very nearly had. She thought he'd abandon her—_Meg,_ his greatest love, his entire world—just to get his immortality back.

Some things didn't have a price.

He pulled her face around to look at him so she could see the determination in his.

"I _think _about it," he whispered. "But I never regret it."

She shook her head, smiling through her tears now. Maybe her dreams weren't quite over, then. She had sensed he'd been pensive about things for awhile, and she thought for sure he'd jump at the chance to recapture his immortality—but she should have understood him better than that. As the perfect man, she should have known he would never be so shallow as to think about himself before anyone else, including her. She'd underestimated his kindness and flawlessness once again.

And she'd forgotten she was his only weakness.

But she couldn't help the feelings of guilt and selfishness rise in her.

"But, still, Herc. You said so yourself—you're mortal now. You'll get older, and, in the far future…you'll die. And it'll all be because of me," she mused sadly.

He shrugged, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Could be worse. You could've been Helen of Troy. And _then_ how guilty would you feel?"

She finally cracked a full-blown smile, and he soaked in the moment as she laughed into the wind, her hardcore and walled-up exterior finally breaking through the years.

"Besides," he continued, a tone of seriousness again present in his voice, "I still hold true to my decision that day," he gently brushed his strong hand against her face. "I'd rather live my whole life with you, knowing I will die one day, than spend an eternity up there, forced to watch you from a distance.

"Even though I may think about my shot at being immortal, I _know_ that _that _decision would be the one I would regret. Forever."

He pulled her into a kiss to finalize his convictions of sincerity, and his head buzzed with the pleasant memories he had made all in that one night of his life.

His mortal life.

But, for some reason, when he thought those frightening thoughts this time, he smiled into their kiss and accepted the world as it was with a content sigh as he leaned away from her.

"Thank you," he whispered to her, holding her hand as he gazed up at the stars.

She looked at him, puzzled. "Thank _me_? And for what, may I ask, are you thanking me, Wonder-Boy?"

He grinned at his favorite nickname. "For helping me realize how great life can be. Even if it _is _a mortal life."

She shoved him playfully, but then fell into rubbing his aching shoulder. And it was at that moment, with her helping him through the hurt, that he knew for absolute and final certainty he had made the right decision—with her by his side, he could protect the world, and she could protect him.

As the final glimmers of the sun faded into oblivion, he felt the cool breeze of the night brush against his face, tempting him to feel self-pity for the eventual end. But he held Meg's hand and knew they could face this life—the rest of their mortal lives on Earth and beyond—together.

He contemplated his mortality no more; who could regret a life like this?

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_Now the oak trees are swaying in the early autumn breeze_

_The golden sun is shining on my face_

_Through tangled thoughts I hear a mockingbird sing_

_This old world really ain't that bad a place._

--Rascal Flatts, "Why"

**Good song. The heartbreaking theme of it really has nothing to do with this story, but this part of the song really emphasizes an appreciation for life, and it's my favorite part. I thought this segment fit pretty well. I recommend it. And I also recommend you review, if you please. Did it go the distance, or are you saying you're not in love with it? Goodness, I'm just full of cheese today, aren't I? Please and thank you for feedback. **


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